The Runner Boys
by SYDOMNEY
Summary: It's 1830's London, crime is high, poverty on the rise, and many labeled 'unfortunate'. For Gabriel and his Runner Boys, the message and parcel runners for rich customers, they must find their way through city streets full of murderers, rapists, and loons


**Chapter 1**

"Watch it!" an imperious voice sounded above the din in the alleyway stalls of 1830's London. And, in fact, above the person who the exclamation was aimed at. The man looked up in time to see a pair of worn ladies heels vault off the neighboring roof and punch into his nose. Stars, tears and pain soon followed after the terrific accident, the man groaned when he found that he couldn't stand. His back felt as if a person landed upon him, in fact craning his neck, while holding a gushing nose, he observed that there was indeed a person sitting upon his back. A spindly boy, mayhap sixteen with worn clothes and torn hose sat on his back rubbing an ankle. The ankle in question was covered with a hand-me-down ladies heel, in the man's eyes it added to the overall oddity of the person upon him. The man opened his mouth only to grimace as the blood from his nose poured in; he spat, pinched his nose a little more viciously and turned back to the boy.

"You twit, you could have killed me! What in the name of God where you thinking?!" The anger in his usually deep voice sent it soaring two octaves higher. The boy, forgetting his ankle momentarily to look for the source of the shouting, blushed fiercely and rolled off the man…making him groan in pain, again. The boy stood delicately, careful not to apply to much pressure to his bad ankle and piped up.

"Sorry 'bout that, sir. Mind if I 'elp you up?" He offered a dirty, bandaged, less that inviting, hand towards the man lying upon the cold cobbled stones. The man, pain and anger making his forehead pucker, grabbed the hand with more force than necessary making the boy yelp. "Oi! Sir, don't be plucky juss cause you didn't move when I hollered at ya!" he still held the man's hand as he brushed himself off "I did warn ya, I did…" the reproach in his voice only angered the man more.

He brushed off his tailored suit, nose flaring at the state it was in, sewer and road muck staining the lovely cream colored wool, not to mention the blood that covered the front like a bib. His eyes scanned the cobbled stones searching for his hat, he found it, and bending with great effort and a few moans he jammed it back onto its proper place upon his crown; he turned to the boy. There he stood with one knee bent, giving his weight to the good leg. What an odd creature. His flaxen hair was clubbed and jammed hastily under a cap, its brim partially hid the black eye that looked a few days old and a spilt eyebrow…the rusted, bent pair of specs hid the rest. Grey lamps for eyes shone through the dirt on his face, a bandage rested upon his right cheek. His clothes had not improved from the last time he looked at them; dirty, patched, splitting at the seams, and gave off an overall stench of a young man whose duty was to run.

"What is your name and your intention?" Answer me honestly, and I will not call the Bobbies on you." His eyes stared into the boys, daring him to speak false or flee. But the boy stood a little straighter, tugged at the edge of his coat so it hung better, and vaulted his chin into the air. _Poppycock! _the man thought.

"My name, sir, is Gabriel. I am the 'ead runner and errand boy for Lady Catherine. And you 'ave interrupted my latest request." The imperious tones crept back into his voice making the man's hackles rise. Oh great! Not only was he dealing with an impotent brat who had possibly broken his nose, but a chit who thought himself an earl!

* * *

What a repugnant person! I warned 'im I did! Hollered my 'ead off right afore I jumped…now look at the mess I'm in! Late, hurt and going to be later if this great oaf didn't shut his gob. I sighed inwardly.

"Sir, I sorry I hit cha, but I need to be about my business." I dropped back into a more pleading tone, hoping he would feel remorse and let me free; but no. He turned red, chewed his lips as if crunching and munching on the words before they came out…and bloody hell! He turned purple! Just like the shade of Lady Catherine's carpets in her tea parlor. Good heavens I almost laughed, but the madness in his eyes convinced me otherwise.

He grabbed me by the collar, and shook me until my back hit the wall. Angry as the devil he was! I swear it. Looking him strait in the eyes he was not all that bad to peep at. My sudden fear forgotten, I stole a look. He had a long nose, the drips of blood plunging off it like a knife's edge, fair lips, made for smilin'…except now they was grimacin'. His eyes were forget-me-not blue, a nice contrast to the anger that bloomed on his cheeks, fair skin the ladies must love to touch. Acorse he was a gentleman, young, but a gentleman no doubt. His clothes said enough about him, all peachy keen and dolled up like he was in the circus…they make me laugh sometimes…

He rapped my head against the wall to make me pay attention. And it did, the pain made my eyes water, "Young man, I could sue you for what you did today! Your family would have nothing left!" he hissed.

I can't believe what I did. I thought he was goin' to murder me…I laughed. At first it was a chuckle, then some giggles, and oh merry mother of God, a full blown laugh. Right in his face I did. Oh, and he didn't like that, acorse he was too shocked the first few seconds to realize I had; he gripped my collar tighter and dragged me into the nearest abandoned alleyway, all the way me laughing like a loony.

He was going to murder this child. This stupid, insubordinate, rude, and possibly mad child; the man found a place to get out of the way of prying eyes and shoved the boy to the floor. He fell on his bad ankle, the laughter caught in his throat and his face drained of color, a small, whimpering groan issued from his slightly parted lips. That small sound pleased him, and made his heart skip a beat in anticipation.

The gentleman had regained his composure, "Now, you will tell me what is so funny," he stopped and reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out a small knife, "or you might loose something." For emphasis he took a step forward and pressed his heel on the boy's ankle making a hiss come out of his tiny frame. The boy looked at him, all laughter devoid in his eyes; it was now replaced with anger, making his lamps burn in the dim light.

"I ain't got no family. I haven't since I can remember; Lady Catherine took me in off the streets afore I turned seven. You can sue me all you like but I ain't got any money for you to take, no family to threaten, and you can hurt me all you like 'cause I used to it." His eyes turned steely to make up for the tone of uncertainty that dropped into his soft voice.

The man smiled, a pleasant smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. His lifted his foot and hauled the boy up, dusted off coat and patted his shoulder a few times. "You know there are other ways I can hurt you…" the boy shivered to the man's delight; he took a step forward.

* * *

Dear lord, what was this man gonna do to me? His eyes had that hungry look in 'em, the kind ya see on them fellas that visit the 'good' ladies. I didn't care for the ways his blue eyes racked my legs and hips…it gave me shivers. I knew of some stories of what 'appened to pretty boys, but then those where all stories you tell to scare the newest member of the Runner Boys. I took a few steps back, shufflin' as I did 'cause my ankle, I put my hands in back of me searchin' for the door I new was at the end of this alcove. My hand gripped an icy brass piece and with my back against it I turned it real quiet like. How I wanted to hear the _click _of the locks comin' undone, just a little more of a turn and I would be free! I felt the handle turn full way and I leaned against the door…it didn't budge. Bloody hell! The man had guessed at what I was tryin' to do. He smiled again and advanced in a flash of cream and red.

All light had been blocked out; I stared up at 'is face that loomed over me, cast into shadow by the light behind 'im. His breath puffin' on my cheek, a horrible mix of mint and lavender, I would never want to smell those two again! He had 'is arms on either side on my head…I felt caged and I shivered again. I think he liked that due to the fact that he raised 'is knee and pushed it up against my crotch. He was so close I could smell the blood on the front of 'is coat, it made me want to vomit.

"So boy" he raised his knee higher, making my feet lift off the ground. I needed to run! To get out and away, but this demon in front of me had frozen my limbs and shut out my mind. "What would your Lady Catherine think if she saw you come home very late, with small cuts _all over_ your body? Would you lie and tell her you fell? You seem like a brat that would lie to save your own skin…" He licked the edge of his knife and pressed it to the hollow under my neck, to where the skin pulsed with a heartbeat as quick as a rabbit's. His eyes were greedy and the blade shone hungrily in the dark, I felt afore I heard the knife slice through my shirt. Oh lord if he found…

* * *

The boy had stared to wriggle away from the blade and its icy kisses, which only aroused him more. The feeling of tender thighs and tight buttocks rocking on his own…the sensation was devilish. He reveled in its delicacy; his eyes drank in the sight of milky skin untouched by the dirt, the small tremors that wracked through his slight frame, the trembling of his lips, and welling of tears in his beautifully frightened eyes. The image nearly drove him over, his own desire swelling in his wool pants…ready to devour the small boy in front of him. This was power. It radiated through him in waves, starting at the base of his manhood and surging through every vein like liquid fire.

The knife halted. It's teasing descent stopped, caught by something under the boy's shirt. The man shoved his knee higher so that the boy was at eye level; a small gasp and the rustling of cloth against wood accompanied his action. He pressed the knife to a pulsing neck, while with his other hand he pulled the two pieces of the boy's shirt apart like a vest. The stupid child had bandages around his chest and part of his waist! Had he broken a rib too? The man thought sarcastically, in his minds eye he saw that naked body with all its bruises…deliciously pale and trembling with fear; he envisioned his own body slamming into the tight little fount as stifled moans and screams came out of the boy's throat. No, not 'boy' Gabriel…like the angel.

The man smiled at the boy, still holding the knife to his throat, he placed his other hand on a cool cheek…marveling in its softness with his fingers. Gabriel turned from his touch. The man growled deep within his throat and tore the knife from his neck, leaving a small knick, and placed his blade at the boy's navel; the ending point of the bandages. His hand tore upward, ripping through the bandages and the Gabriel's skin with savagery. "No!" he screamed, either in pain or protest the man didn't care, he was too intent on his goal. Now he was wriggling like a fish to get away, his attempts only ended up sliding down the man's thy to rub and thrash against the swelling were the man's legs met. He let out a groan and tore the damaged bandages away, thrusting the boy back against the door.

His hands needed to touch that skin! To pinch and scratch, leaving marks in his wake. His tongue needed to travel between the hollow of his breasts, to lick at the cut he made. The man's free hand grappled with the buttons at his fly, fingers all too eager only got in the way, until finally he was free.

* * *

I wondered why he had stopped suddenly and turned to face the man again. It twas a bad idea, he had his pecker in 'is hand, and was chewin' 'is lips and groanin' like those fellas at the ladies house. Except this un liked boys…me. He still had his knee against the door, pinning me to it like a bug. But then he took it away, and I landed on my feet…but my ankle gave. I knew I gasped, I tried not to, the pain was intense…he liked that too much. With 'is free hand he turned me around and slammed me into the door, my face grinding on the grain of the wood. I yelped and struggled in spite of myself, he pressed his body against mine…the lavender wafting up from 'is clothes made me gag. His hand pushing my head into the door, and chest against my back he ripped my coat off me; tearing it to shreds in his frenzy. I sucked in a breath as the cold London air reached my skin, my specs were grinding into my face, and my cheek and ankle hurt like hell. "Please..." I whimpered "please."

It had no effect; he grabbed a fistful o' my hair and turned me to face 'im. I knew I was about to cry and pulled my arms into my chest, as if it would protect me. But he wanted my shirt off, I could tell, 'is eyes gone all black and shinin' with the devil's light.

* * *

The man grabbed both of the Gabriel's small wrists in one of his great hands and tore them from his chest, thrusting them above the boy's sandy head. His hips jerked forward and started to undulate against Gabriel's fiery body. His need and desire sitting deep within his gut drove him onward. With his knife he flicked open one flap of the boy's shirt to reveal a woman's breast.


End file.
